A Romantic Comedy of Apocalyptic Proportions
by Katanagrave
Summary: Other than being a doctor, Logan Dawson is your everyday guy. Loves video games, obsessed with zombies, and unlucky with the ladies. His luck starts to change when he meets the woman of his dreams at the bookstore, a woman receptive to his nerdy charm. Just when things are looking up, a group of rowdy people bust down the doors. They look sleepy and are rather bitey.


Note: Hello potential reader, and welcome to what I hope isn't a complete waste of your time. I admit there are many grammatical and some spelling errors, but I hope you can look past them and enjoy the story for what it is. That being said, any and all reviews are welcome.

**ARC**

So much blood; that's all I could think. The ground had soaked up so much of it that every step I took was accompanied by a light squelching sound. All around me men lay on the ground in different stages of dying. Some frantically grasped at severed arteries, futilely trying to stem the flow of blood; others in the throes of death, reaching for a comforting vision that only they could see.

For a fleeting moment we had all been heroes, men ready to die for the glory of the empire. That facade had only lasted as long as it took our enemies to draw their weapons. Our legion was comprised mostly of recruits, men who had weren't truly tested. We were cut down in a matter of moments. So many of those proud men who touted the greatness of the empire had been reduced to whimpering children.

It hadn't taken long for the men to break rank. The shrill call of the commander's whistle fell on selectively deaf ears. Who could blame them, no one wants to die. My decision however had been made long ago. I would die here. Our enemies had made sure of that.

My young wife had been one of the women outside the city gates, charged with gathering medicinal ingredients from the neighboring forest. She was there to see the approach of the barbarians. The women had run back as fast as possible, but many of them did not make it; my wife among them. That had settled it, I would don the Legionnaires helmet again.

The continuing shriek of the commanders whistle brought me back to the present. There was little I could do for the men around me, comforting words or not they would die. I would honor their memories with blood. First I had to find the commander; together we could rally the remaining men.

The cool feeling of a slight trickle washed over my body as I scanned the grounds for the plume of my commanders helmet. A whistle broke the silence. There was still no sign of a crimson plume, but the cry of the whistle left me with a general idea of the commanders location. I ran in the direction the sound had come from, trying to avert my eyes from the carnage I encountered. The phrase was as old as time, but still held true. "War is hell".

Dying men stretched to grab my legs. Friends and foe alike, all of them desperate for a comforting hand at the end. How I wished that I could stop and offer that hand. I stood resolute though. My wife could not be saved, but the empire would. The whistle sounded again, this time close enough to leave a slight ringing in my ears. I pumped my legs at furious pace, my heart thudding almost audibly; my bruised and battered body protesting at the exertion. Finally a break in the crowded bodies ahead and I spotted the crimson plume. Before I could reach them a group of barbarians took notice of me, stepping between me and the commander. News of my prowess had traveled the battlefield and they were here to test it. "Lay down your weapon centurion," one of the barbarians stepped forward bellowing the order. He stood at least a full head taller than me. A bear of a man. Long stringy hair trailed down past his shoulders, coarse matted hair covering the rest of his body; a large gruesome looking axe resting comfortably in his hands.

Too much blood had been shed, too many lives lost to just give up here. I stood my ground and fixed a tighter grip on my gladius; the grizzled warrior wasn't intimidated. "Drop the weapon boy, this battle is over; no need to throw your life away too," the tone of his voice sounded almost like a father speaking to his son. It reminded me of how weary I was. My body felt like it weighed a ton. "Come with me boy, my chief would like to speak to you." One look at how he bounced the axe casually in his hands broke the fatherly illusion. It was an open invitation for defiance. He had been ordered to bring me back alive, but he thirsted to fight who he considered a worthy opponent. My resolve to reach my commander was strengthened.

There were five men surrounding me from what I could see; without making it obvious I was weighing my odds. These were still bad odds without the possibility of others in my blind spots. No use in trying to analyze things too much, I would die in this particular spot. If I were to go down, the leader of this group was coming with me. "I will go no where with you."

"Wrong choice boy..."

The commanders motto echoed through my mind at that moment. No fear of dying, no thoughts of surrender. Ignoring the complaints of my body, I surged forward; a guttural battle cry coming from deep inside. The empire would stand long after I fell.

"Dr. Dawson, what the hell are you doing!?"

A dull thud sounded, as the plastic sword game controller slipped from my hands and to the floor. One hand immediately shot to my glasses, pushing them farther up my nose. All dreams of being a Roman Centurion were immediately forgotten. My mind raced to find a good excuse; unfortunately all I came up with was "Um... uhhh... well Dr. Brooks told..." Alright, way to show my intelligence.

Haylie Kent, ER nurse extraordinaire; stood in the doorway of the on call dormitory. Fortunately looks can't kill; for if they could, the gleam in her eyes would have obliterated civilizations. How could someone who's so small and cute contain so much anger? "Fuck what Dr. Brooks said! Do you see him here now!?"

The beast was awakened and sensed blood. Dear God, please save me. I could imagine her reading my thoughts and shouting, "God can't save you now!" "Well umm... he said before he left..."

"Thats right, he left. Means I'm in charge of residents now." She shook her head a few times and sighed. "Sorry Logan, this constant onslaught just has me slightly on edge. It's even worse than before you took your breather." She wore a look of utter disbelief as she motioned to outside the dormitory, "Honestly its like their coming by the bus load. No sooner do you get them in the lobby, and another dozen appear at the door."

Miracles do happen, Haylie saw fit to let me keep my life. "Wow, that does sound a lot worse than earlier." I grabbed my lab coat from the back of a chair and slung my stethoscope around my neck. "Shall we join the party Nurse Kent."

She rolled her eyes and followed me out the door. So much for trying to tame the beast through charm. Just as she had stated things were much worse, bad enough I caught a glimpse of our chief of medicine, Dr. Monroe down here in the fray. Our hospital is big, in fact the second biggest in the state; our ER can accommodate 40 patients comfortably and probably 60 in an emergency. All the examination rooms were at full capacity and people lining the walls in chairs. There had to be close to 80 people back here. A quick glance into the lobby shown standing room only. Thank God I didn't have to pay rent on the on call dorm, I would be spending the next few nights here more than likely.

It was hard to believe that I was only finishing up my first month in the residency program. Already I had found myself in the middle of the biggest crisis the hospital had seen. Haylie took the lead, stopping at an exam room and grabbing a chart from the wall mounted holder beside the door.

"Exam room twenty, we have Esteban Martinez, male age 46," Haylie's professional voice, the bitch monster inside slumbering. She began to crack the door open, the sound of light moans escaping through the crack. Sounded like Mr. Martinez was in rough shape.

"Would you please pass me the chart Nurse Kent?"

I took the chart from her outstretched hand and began flipping through the pages. Haylie already donning disposable gloves waited for me in the entrance. "Good evening Mr. Martinez..."

"It could be a better evening," he chuckled between grunts of pain.

"Judging by the wound your chart says you sustained, I'm sure it could be," I offered my hand. "I'm Dr. Dawson and the lovely woman joining us is Nurse Kent, its a pleasure to meet you." The larger heavily muscled man, took my offered hand and shook. Despite holding a towel over what looked like a large wound, the strength of his grip nearly crushed my hand. "Oww... umm, I meant nice firm grip." I cradled my poor hand against my chest, thoroughly embarrassed. "Anyway, give me a moment to wash up and get the gloves on, then we'll take a peek at whats under that towel."

"Can you give me an explanation as to how you received this injury?" Warm water dripped into the sink as I waved my hand past the sensor on the automatic paper towel dispenser. First pair of gloves I attempted to put on ripped. "Stupid cheap gloves, rip even if your hands are only a little damp, " I muttered under my breath. "Hopefully the second times..."

"There was a disturbance over at the neighbor's house," Mr. Martinez cut in. A sharp gasp and he froze for a moment.

I quickly stepped in beside Haylie and reached for the towel. "Please try to relax, lets see what we're working with nurse." Mr. Martinez let out a slow breath and gripped the edge of the bed, anticipating the painful act. We got the edges up without a problem. The center of towel however was practically glued to the wound with blood. There was really no easy way to do this. He roared in pain as we freed the towel. "Wow," involuntarily escaped my lips.

Not much time has passed since I've been able to include an M.D. After my name; even so, when it comes to seeing grisly wounds I like to think of myself as having been around the block. You name it I've seen it. Animal attacks, car accidents, even gunshot wounds. Many of those wounds even looked worse than this one. All the other wounds though looked like what you expected from the nature of the problem. The chart listed the nature of problem as being injury sustained during an altercation with neighbor. His shoulder looked like he was attacked by a rabid animal. Chunks of flesh were literally missing like whatever attacked had tried to eat him. Most would have passed out or gone into shock from such a gruesome wound the fact that Mr. Martinez had gotten by just gritting his teeth, was a testament of the mans toughness.

"We'll get you something to take the edge off the pain Mr. Martinez. Nurse Kent, please get me 500 milligrams of Vicodin." He grabbed her arm, holding her back.

"Please give me a moment. I would like to tell you both what happened without having my judgement impaired." He released Haylie's arm and apologized before continuing. Forgoing pain medicine to have a chat, he probably considered nails to be the breakfast of wimps. "Heard a disturbance next door... First off, I should probably mention that I'm a detective with the local police department. Once you start a job like that," he smiled, gesturing with his hands. "A job like that... it gets in your blood. Once you take that oath to protect and serve, you're always on duty."

"I know what you're saying," I agreed. "Once I took the Hippocratic oath, I knew I would still be on the job even out in everyday life." He nodded his head with a half smile, acknowledging our moment of camaraderie. "Sorry to interrupt ..."

"Don't be. Nice to meet someone who feels the same way." He paused for a moment, shifting his gaze to the ground. When he spoke again his voice was quiet,"People outside oaths like ours don't understand." The statement made me think he was possibly going through a divorce or something like losing someone over a job. I was tempted to ask him about it, try to offer comfort if I could. Then I remembered I was his doctor, not his friend.

"So what happened with this disturbance," I questioned. Personal questions weren't relevant to the situation at hand, but this was. As a doctor I had to gather as much information about a violent encounter that lands a patient in the ER as I could. For insurance purposes and in case law enforcement officials come asking questions.

"As I said before, heard a disturbance next door, the Russo's home. With all the civil uprising and riots downtown I figured our officers were busy. Needed to do something to help if I could." His gaze was fixed on the wall, but from the blank look in his eyes I knew he was lost, reliving the moment. "First I called it into the department, then went next door to check it out. I pounded on the door, damn near knocked the thing off its hinges. No one came, I started to think maybe I was just hearing things. Then I heard Mrs. Russo scream for help. I kicked the door open and rushed toward the sound of her voice. She was lying on the couch, Mr. Russo on top of her." He chuckled, putting his thumb and forefinger on the bridge of his nose. "I was embarrassed, interrupting an intimate moment. Hell who wouldn't think that? Anyway I decided to make a quiet exit. Guess he heard me and stood up. I was preparing an apology, until I caught a glance of Mrs. Russo. The chest of her shirt was ripped open, almost like a dog or something ripped it. She was bleeding profusely. That's when I noticed Mr. Russo was now facing me, blood dripping from his mouth."

"Oh my God, you're neighbor's a zombie," I gasped, impulse control temporarily not working. Who wouldn't think zombie? In the past few years zombie media has really hit its stride. They're everywhere, movies, books, toys, everyone wants zombie stuff. Being an extreme hardcore nerd, I was in the marketing demographic. Had a survival plan and a contingency plan just in case that one failed. None the less it was a ridiculous comment to make and I knew it. Haylie looked at me like I escaped from my padded cell, Mr. Martinez shared her look.

"So...," I started, then trailed off. "Umm yeah..."

"Wow, he's an excitable one," Mr. Martinez commented.

"Sorry for the outburst, horror movie marathon kept me up a while last night. Please continue." It was a lame excuse, but it was part truth. Some opportunistic and irresponsible jerk at a major television network had come up with the idea of showing horror movies while these riots were taking place. The only reason I throw insults at him is because I'm angry, I don't have time to watch it.

"Mr. Russo lunged at me, I pulled back and punched him in the jaw. I'm not one to boast, but when I hit someone they stay down for a while. He's a small guy and I really laid into that blow, but when I turned to check on the Mrs., he got up and did this," he gestured to his shoulder. I could see the pain was really starting to get to him by his facial tics. Haylie must have noticed it too, because when I made a slight motion to the door with my head she left without a word.

"Your neighbor bit you and his own wife?" Even with rational thought zombie still sounded plausible.

He nodded his head and sighed. "Truth be told, in the back of my mind I was thinking the same thing too. I'm a fan of the old living dead movies myself. This struck some pretty uncanny parallels. After I subdued him and called an ambulance, Mrs. Russo told me about what happened when he went overseas for his last tour of duty." The big man took in a deep breath, I thought I even heard a little whimper. Whatever it was, it was bad. Had to be to shake such a hard guy.

"That poor boy... that poor boy,"He whispered the statement, head in his hands.

"If its difficult, you..." I began to tell him he didn't need to finish the story. I had all the details I may have needed at some point. Anything now was to complete the story and allay my childish fears.

"On his last tour, apparently the convoy he was traveling in got hit by mortars. Out of all the soldiers in the convoy, only he and four others lived. They were made P.O.W.'s for almost a year. During that time, they endured torment after torment. They were deprived of just about anything a person needs to survive, including food. They chose to eat each other as they died in order to survive. That's just something you never come back from. He didn't. His wife said that the therapist said he would likely have some violent flashbacks."

"My God..." My mouth dropped open. I felt very foolish for playing that game earlier, and having an inner monologue like I was a soldier. Hearing these things on the news doesn't really sink in, but hearing it happened to someone in your own town really made you think about the atrocities our fighting men and women face.

We both stayed silent for a moment, myself too stunned by the story to really have any clear thoughts. Mr. Martinez groaned. I was so absorbed in the story and thoughts of sympathy for his neighbor, that I had nearly forgotten why we were here. Yay for incompetency. Questionable intelligence and a good paying career, I'm living the American dream.

Before I had to figure out what to do next, Haylie came back with a small pill cup and a glass of water; effectively saving me. I turned my attention back to my charts. It was all a diversion so neither of them would notice that I had spaced out for a moment. "... vicodin, it will help with the pain," I overheard Haylie in the background.

It was clear that Mr. Martinez would not be able to go home tonight. He needed to be here for observation. Infection was a major concern as was fever. At least tonight he would need to be kept under observation. He would likely need a skin graft to close such a large area.

"Doctor, shall I write up admission papers," Haylie questioned standing beside me.

"I want him kept right where he is tonight. He needs to be monitored for the onset of a severe fever." Sometimes it surprised me how professional I could sound. "Give him 1500 milligrams of vicodin for the pain, every four hours as needed. Also, have Dr. Streiner come in for a surgical consult."

"Yes Doctor." She went to ready the various papers and forms.

I could have just had Haylie tell him what was going on, but after our little bonding session that just seemed impersonal. "How are you feeling Mr. Martinez?"

The man appeared much more relaxed, I was guessing the pills were working. "Much better thank you, so will I be able to return to work tomorrow?"

I shifted from foot to foot for a moment. I figured he would know he would be staying. "Sorry Mr. Martinez, you will have to stay here tonight."

His relaxed appearance immediately disappeared and he looked angry, maybe even a little panicked. "This is just a scratch, I've worked with much worse! The station is going to need me!"

At one time dealing with belligerent patients would have bothered me, now it was just another day. "Infection sets into these wounds quickly. If left unchecked you could die. Wounds like yours are much more serious than you think. It will require surgical assistance to heal properly. Our cosmetic surgeon Dr. Streiner will be in to talk to you tomorrow."

He seemed blindsided by the seriousness of his situation."Nurse Kent will answer any questions you may have. "Good luck Mr. Martinez, if you'll excuse me."

There were too many patient's waiting to be seen to hold his hand through all this. Still I didn't like leaving my patients like that if I could help it. These were extenuating circumstances though. Is it everyday a civil uprising sends thousands to the hospital? An involuntary yawn escaped me. My body's way of reminding me that I had worked since seven this morning; it was now a quarter till 10 this evening. I needed rest, but there was too much work to be done and too few doctors.

The chairs here in the hall were still full, but if I was correct they were new faces. Considering my childhood winning record in memory based games was spotty, it was hard to know for sure. Either way there were bound to be unseen patients in some of these rooms. A quick glance later I spotted one to the left and one farther down the hall in front of me. Only one way to decide; eenie meenie miney moe.

Left side won,which truth be told was for the best. The left side was closer and I felt way too lazy to be bothered to walk all the way down the hall. I headed towards the door, and pulled the chart beside the door.

"Ada Donovan," I read in a whisper. "Age 72..." Figures, she's an elderly woman. Nothing against the elderly, just hoping to see a young pretty woman. "Small wound on left forearm, presenting with low grade fever and general aches and pains." Nothing too bad for an acetominophin tablet. Personally, I would have stayed home for such a problem. On the other side I could see wanting to get something like this checked out with all this craziness outside. I was assuming this wound had been sustained in an attack.

The door opened with a loud creak and I entered, face still buried in her chart. "Good evening Ms. Donovan, I'm Dr. Dawson."

I was expecting a 'Hello dearie' in a grandmotherly kind of voice. What I received was a, "Good evening Doctor." No grandma voice, a husky voice full of youth, the kind of voice advertisers use when they want men to buy their product. I lowered the chart and found a young beautiful brunette woman staring back at me.

"Ms. Donovan?"

"Thats me," she replied flashing a smile that revealed two rows of gleaming white teeth. I glanced back at the chart. Somehow I had confused the numbers and read her age as 72, when it was actually 27. "Is there a problem doctor? I notice you glancing back at the chart."

"Sorry, just read your age wrong at first. When I saw you, your appearance took me by surprise. I was expecting someone who looked more like my Grandmother."

"Thank God," she chuckled nervously."I started thinking my injury was more serious, the way you looked at me in surprise then glanced back at your chart."

"Heh. Sorry to alarm you, just one of those days."

"We can call it even, if you can get me patched up."

A coy smile tugging at the corner of her lips, a twinkle in her eye; was this beautiful woman flirting with me? My hand shot to my glasses and shoved them farther up the bridge of my nose. "Yea,,, um yeah, of course." Way to go on being cool and aloof. "Sit tight for just a moment and I'll go get some bandages."

"Hurry back doctor," she purred in response.

I managed a quick wave with the back of my hand. Out in the hallway, I slowly drug a hand down my face. This was pathetic. I'm a doctor, gotta try to be cool and detached. I found our supplies at least in this particular closet dwindling. At the very least this closet full, should last a week. We had gone through most of it in just the past two days. There were more than enough bandages to take care of Ms. Donovan, but no where close enough for all the people still waiting to be seen. Better make a note to have a housekeeper get this stocked up.

Supplies in hand, I reached for the door to Ms. Donovan's room. "Gah!" A large hand grabbed my shoulder from behind, causing me to jump and throw the things in my hand. Just doing my part to make sure we quickly run through supplies.

"Sorry Dr. Dawson, didn't mean to scare you," A deep voice, that I had overheard being likened to honey; spoke from behind. Alex Sellers, nurse extraordinaire, part giant and overall heart-throb of our hospital.

I took a moment to try to compose myself, so I didn't seem a total spaz. For some reason he had this hero like worship of me. He was a good looking, athletic, intelligent, popular with the ladies, hell the list of perfection went on endlessly... sculpted body; I was unsure if that was jealousy or an awkward gay thought, scary. The point is the guy is so amazing that I can't comprehend what he looks up to in me.

"Me scared," I guffawed. "The state of that supply closet just has me so frustrated, I couldn't help but throw the things in my arms and stamp my feet."

Alex grinned. "I thought so Dr. Dawson. I doubt that I could scare you. But yeah, that's incredible with how quickly we are going through supplies."

"That's embarrassing that I let my frustration get the best of me. Now I have to go back for more supplies. Anyway Alex if you'll excuse me, have a good night." I walked past him towards the closet. Got through that without thoroughly appearing to be an idiot. His large hand clapped my shoulder again, except this time I didn't panic.

"Actually I came to see you with a message from Dr. Monroe."

A message from Dr. Monroe!? The chief of medicine had a message for me personally in the middle of this ordeal? Maybe he was impressed with my skills and was requesting my help. Two months and already the chief of medicine was looking to me for help! I didn't say anything, the smug smirk said it all.

"He just wanted me to let all morning staff know they should go home and rest for the night."

His words balled into a fist and punched the smug right out of me. Why did my moments of humility have an audience? "Dr. Monroe wants me to go home?"

"Yeah," he shook his head. He didn't seem to notice the smug smirk missing from my face. "He said for the day shifters to go home and get as much rest as possible, then report back in the morning."

Well at least I wasn't the only one to be sent home. A wave of guilt washed over me. People were here fighting for their lives and I was turning job performance into a contest. I hoped a night of rest would help me approach tomorrow with a new outlook. "I guess that's a good idea, man cannot survive on caffeine alone."

"Sage advice doctor, maybe you should try living by and not just preaching it," Alex teased with a grin.

"Yeah, very true." I nodded in agreement. "Twelve cups of coffee a meal does not make." I attempted to mock the wise man way of talking, but probably just sounded like I was babbling.

Alex eyes opened wide. "Twelve cups of coffee with nothing to eat!? You must have a cast iron stomach! Seriously go get something to eat before going home."

That sounded good, the only thing I've eaten so far is a handful of animal crackers a young child had given to me as means of payment for his bill. It was threatening in a cute sort of way. He looked me in the eyes seriously, pulled open my shirt pocket, dumped them in, and patted my pocket in a gesture that seemed to say take them if you know whats good for you.

"I could go for a sandwich. Do you know if Dr. Mathis is around here somewhere?"

One massive hand came to rest on his chin in the thinking mans pose. After a moment his eyes lit up with recognition. "He is. Last I saw, he was doing paperwork in his office."

"Wow, whatever sickness is going around must have affected his brain, if he's doing paperwork." I made for the supply closet again. "Just have to finish up with one more patient, then I'll be good to go."

"Room 28 there," Alex questioned my back.

"Yeah." I kept going.

"Dr. Bell is already in there consulting the patient. Let me get the supplies and you can head out for the night."

That bastard! Dr. Bell is the other hospital heart-throb. If there was a beautiful female patient he magically appeared. My moment was gone, he had probably already gone in for the kill . For prides purpose I would try to remember her as being 72.

"That sounds good," I bowed my head in defeat. It did sound good though. with the exception of playing that game for a half hour I had done nothing but treat patients or help an experienced doctor. Some real time to unwind would do me a world of good. "Thanks Alex, and please thank Dr. Bell for me," I added the last part grudging. "Have a good rest of the night big man."

"You to Dr. Dawson." He pat a hand on my bicep then continued past me. "Hey," he turned around and for a rare occasion looked serious. "Be careful out there. These riots are getting worse, I don't want to see you tomorrow as a new admission." He was right things were bad out there and being of average strength my only real asset in a fight was my ability to scream like a B horror movie actress.

"You be careful to big man," I replied with a wave. Now to track down Dr. Mathis.


End file.
